Paris. What can be said about Paris that hasn’t been said by people far more articulate and clever than I? Nothing. So I won’t try.
Paris is virtually perfect. The architecture, the Seine, the museums, the energy, the unparalleled beauty AND the chocolate. And nobody can make a croissant or bread like the French. Or food, in general. I tired of pasta, pizza and prosciutto. I’m so happy to have a broader selection. Not that I need a morsel of food. OMG. I’m practically obese and will have to buy an extra seat on airline!!
I admit to having had French prejudice, brought about largely as a result of WW2. But I’ve reevaluated all that and see it differently. Particularly now that America elected Trump. France is also more organized and efficient than Italy. I admit to liking more order, especially as I get older.
We’ve been here less than 24 hours and we’ve spoken to more people than we did in the entire last three months (except during the times friends visited). This time it’s a Continue Reading

I hate time. It does to fucking fast. Here we are only two days away from leaving Italy and heading for the last weeks in Paris and a quick side trip to London. I'm going to meet with a gallery where I've been asked to show my work. I'm sure there in NOTHING in it $$-wise, but it would look great on my resume, assuming I had one.
We're having a fantastic visit with Sadie, Tim and Tabby, their brilliant 20 year old daughter, whom we adore. The kid of person who travels with books by Thackerey and has a sublime sense of humor and perspective. The kind of child that makes you think, hmmm...having children could be fun. But if you're me you realize you wouldn't have that kind of child, you would've had a tattooed misogynist. Speaking of tattoos (which I loathe), the fad has hit Italia BIG TIME. I have seen so many tats on the most beautiful young people who have RUINED their flawless skin. I only wish I'd be around when their boobs reach the floor carrying their cherry tats with them. Continue Reading

One of the joys of traveling abroad these days is being able to convince yourself that you are more or less beyond the reach of Trumpism. Or at least that’s what I had been thinking over the past couple of months as Bonnie and I settled in Spain, France and now Italy. Of course, I wear my Trump button with his name crossed out and daily get high-fives from Europeans as a consequence. Also, some times we get a table in a restaurant that is “full up.” And I see bits and pieces of the news. Still, I feel quite removed from the U.S. and Trump and what he represents.
But yesterday day Trump’s ignorant and evil little hands reached across thousands of miles and touched me at a surprising moment. I was riding down in the funicular from the mountain top where the Italian town of Montecatini is located. One of my friends and house guests, Sadie Jones, the English novelist, was standing beside me as we both road open-air at the front of the funicular. Standing next to us were two elderly Continue Reading

Our lovely friend, Anne Carlucci, suggested we visit Pietrasanta and Forte dei Marmi. Jim grumbled at first because we’ve been doing so much driving. But he’s not grumbling now! He fell head over heels for them, as did I, particularly Pietrasanta. Forte dei Marmi was GORGEOUS with the Apuan Alps surrounding the sea, some with remains of the snowpack. The town reminded me of Palm Beach or Santa Monica in terms of being upscale and beachy.
But Pietrasanta, a town comprised largely of artists and crafts people, is outstanding. It's where Michaelangelo studied. The olive and orange orchards, the greenery and, the most gorgeous sculptures around the main square, are mind-boggling. There was a Duomo, naturally, and although I vowed NEVER to enter another church, Jim convinced me. This church was special. Compact and magnificent. Truly one of the most beautiful churches I’ve ever seen.
One of the things about Pietrasante is its marble quarries are legendary and the works that have been Continue Reading